


Convicted of Plagio

by AmateurScribes



Series: Bad Things Happen (to Grif) Bingo [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Isolation, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Touching, Possessive Behavior, Sabotage, but more in the vein of thought control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Grif's alone on the island and he has no idea how much time has passed.Then suddenly Locus is there to tell him that the others are dead.Time is the least of his concerns after that.





	Convicted of Plagio

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, ok so I want to preface this by saying that I love Locus and I love his redemption even more! That said, I really did have a fun time writing this one and I _may_ have gone a little bit overboard with the word count. But that just means you guys have more fic to enjoy! I'm still accepting bingo prompts so if you want to send one in that's totally awesome!

It's been a while since he's been alone on the island. Grif _understands_ this. But his clock on his HUD is still busted up so he couldn't use that as an accurate track of how many days have passed. Nor could he use the day cycle of the moon either, days passed by much, _much_ quicker on Iris.

He usually relied on- on one of the _others_ to tell him what day it was. Not that he needed to often anyways, they were supposed to be _retired._ He didn't have the need for a way to keep track of time.

Now though- now it's an entire fucking problem.

So Grif doesn't have a single goddamn clue for how long exactly he's been alone on the island.

But he knows that it wasn't too long ago that he deemed himself well versed in Spanish to start on that little 'project' of his.

And so he knows it wasn't too long ago that he gave a corporeal form to the voices echoing violently in his head, now having volleyball substitutes for the others.

But not because he missed them- he _didn't_ miss them. Just because he's alone on a goddamn moon with no way off and no real way to contact _someone_ to get him the fuck out of there, resorting to making volleyball puppets of his frie- _the others-_ for company after the voices started appearing, doesn't mean he misses them.

He just needs to apologize to them. That's all. Then their fucking voices would leave him alone and he could just _move on with his life._

That was the plan, all he had to do was apologize to them. He hoped he didn't have to apologize in person, that'd- that'd be a lot fucking harder to accomplish. He didn't know where the hell they were in the great expanse of space, and he has no means to track them down.

Vaguely he wonders if they're ok.

But he _knows_ that they are because they always make it out in the end. All they had to do was inexplicably find Church and then the universe would follow suit to make sure that the rest of whatever challenge opposed them would unravel at the seams.

And if- if they didn't _come back_ to Iris then he'd know that officially they didn't want him anymore, which is- that's fine.

So long as he can just say his piece and apologize then they can do whatever the fuck they want. That is if he doesn't apologize to the volleyballs first.

Which- well, he hasn't gotten around to doing that quite yet.

And he just finds more and more ways to fuck up doing it too.

Like letting the Volley Church deflate and _fucking die._

"No, no, no, no, no! Not again! This is not gonna happen again!" He can feel himself go fucking insane at the fact that he can't do anything goddamn right, but he has to try- he _has_ to say it. "Now listen, everyone. I got a thing. I gotta say it. I'm like, super, duper, spectacularly s-"

He can't even finish his sentence before the voices are fucking intruding again, and he can hear himself change his own voice to match theirs.

Volley Tucker fills in the blanks for him with, "Selfish?" And he can just hear the way Tucker had looked at with disdain when he announced that he was quitting.

Volley Sarge barks out, "Useless!" at him in the same way Sarge would to him for _everything._

Volley Donut chimes in with a cheerful, "Repressed!" because Donut was always concerned with _everyone's_ feelings, especially Grif's, despite how many goddamn times he told Donut that he didn't want to talk about _fucking anything._

And Volley Simmons is last with his answer of, "Fat!" and Grif has been called that his entire goddamn life and he _knows_ that he is- he doesn't have a fucking problem with it- but hearing Simmons just spit that at his face fucking _hurts._

He blinks tears away, and even though he feels his throat start to close at the sobs he refuses to fucking let out, he says, "Shut up and listen to me! Everyone, I am so, so-"

He's expecting to cut himself off- he's done it over a million fucking times by now.

But he's not expected to hear, "Completely insane."

Turning his head he sees- fucking _Locus-_ decloaking and stalking towards him, sword held in his hand, not activated yet but Grif just knows that, that could change any second.

He stops only a few feet away from Grif before continuing, "I would _know."_

Grif fucking jumps back a few feet, desperate to increase to two of them as he stutters out, "Locus?!"

The distant thought that _he's no longer alone on the moon anymore_ is overshadowed by his fear that Locus _was going to finish what he started on Chorus all those months ago._

He starts to ramble as he says, "No! Aw, fuck! You're not really real, right? I mean, I'm just hallucinating?"

The possible hallucination closes the distance between them, and Grif would be tempted to move back again if he _wasn't_ in close approximation of _Locus' fucking sword._

The gun in his hand is ignored as Locus answers his question, "You're not hallucinating."

Fuck. He feels his heart start to race slightly, and he knows that if Locus wanted to, he would have done it already but fear and _stupidity_ makes him ask, "Then you're here to kill me?"

Locus doesn't answer, but he does relax his grip on his sword even going so far as to put it away entirely.

Which should have been relieving as all fuck to Grif, but now he's just worried that Locus was going to choke him to death, which he totally could if he wanted to and now Grif tries to move his right foot backward but only subtly so Locus wouldn't notice-

"I'm here to inform you of what has occurred to your so-called friends," Locus answers.

His heart that had been beating against his chest like a fucking sledgehammer fucking halted and he felt all the air in his lungs fucking leave and he can't breathe because-

"What," he pauses eyes flickering to the volleyballs ignored on the ground. "What are you talking about?"

"The Reds and Blues are dead," was spoken so bluntly, but Grif felt the ground beneath him fucking crumble away.

They- they can't be _dead._ That's not how- that's not how this _works._

"They were murdered in their attempt to stop a group of SIM Troopers referring to themselves as the Blues and Reds," Locus continued as if he didn't just fucking _shatter_ Grif's entire existence.

He- he shouldn't be listening to what Locus was saying- he was _lying,_ he had to be lying.

"I- I don't _believe you,"_ Grif tried to say with a steady voice, but it came out weak.

"You don't have to believe me for it to be true," Locus mused. For the first time since revealing himself, he moved back from Grif and observed the scene that he had originally interrupted. "You can wallow here in your insanity or you can come with me."

"You- come with- they're not dead," he stammered, and at this point, he _knew_ he sounded like a petulant child, but he still can't wrap his head around the- the _lie_ that his- his _friends_ were dead.

"They are," Locus pulls out his pistol and aims to the side. "The Blues and Reds-"

He fires and Grif flinches as he hears one of the volleyballs hiss out air as it deflates.

 _"Murdered_ them-"

Another gunshot sounds throughout the empty moon, followed by more hissing from the second volleyball.

"The same way-"

Locus aimed his gun downwards, but still away from Grif, and fired again.

Grif has to blink away his tears as he mentally ticks off _which_ volleyballs were shot.

"That they killed an _entire-"_

He notes that now the only volleyballs that weren't shot were Sarge and- and _Simmons._

"Planet filled with refugees. Now-"

Grif feels his heart clench painfully as the Simmons volleyball is the only one left.

Locus pauses, before gesturing with his gun lightly, voice hard as he says, "You can either accept the truth and come with me or you can stay here with the only remnants of the Reds and Blues that you could possibly hope to bury."

Locus aims his gun at Volley Simmons and Grif finally moves from where he'd been frozen in fucking _fear_ to stand in front of it, stammering out, "I'll fucking- I'll go with you ok? Don't- please- don't shoot this one, ok? I'll go with you, just don't-"

Locus cuts him off by gripping his arm to lightly shove him out of the way, looking directly into Grif's helmet as he shoots the volley- the- _Simmons._

He lets go of Grif's arm, and he just fucking collapses, hands hovering over the deflating volleyball.

He- he _knows-_ that's not really Simmons- but, but Simmons is _dead_ and now so is the volleyball and his heart hurts and so does his chest and his vision is blurry.

Grif hangs his head in defeat as tears finally fall and caress his cheeks as he just stares at the destroyed volleyball.

"Like I said," Grif can only see Locus' armored boots move away, as he doesn't lift his head to look at him. "You can stay here to die or you can come with me and get _revenge_ on the ones who killed your friends."

Grif listens to Locus walk away and- and he _shouldn't_ follow him, that asshole just- just fucking dropped a bombshell on him about- about _the others_ and then he shot- shot them.

But he knows that when Locus leaves, there'll be no way off of the moon.

And he can't apologize to the others.

And he doesn't have the volleyballs anymore.

And- and he doesn't want to be _alone._

So he scrambles up and after Locus' retreating form, not looking back at the various volleyballs that were his friends.

He tells himself that it doesn't matter that they're dead as he enters Locus' ship.

They left him first.

* * *

It's only after a few days stuck alone with Locus and the voices in his head again that he noticed Lopez was on the ship too.

Grif had stumbled upon him when the need to move and distract himself from- from _the others_ yelling at him that it was his fault that they died. Locus' ship wasn't that big, so Grif never really had privacy which is- which is _fine._ Even if Locus acted creepy and possessive sometimes.

He said that he was going to find the Blues and Reds to kill them. That he had turned over a new leaf, that- that he was making amends by killing people who did wrong.

So he was going to kill the Blues and Reds for killing that refugee colony.

Grif didn't like to think about it for too long.

So he wandered, kept moving and wringing his hands as he paced to just _not_ think about _anything._

And then he found Lopez.

He assumed it was during one of the night cycles the ship had as it traveled through the expanse of space. Grif didn't really know how the ship worked. All he knew was that the disorientating vibrant lights that were usually on, were dimmed down and reduced to a low hum. So, it was probably the night cycle.

Lopez was off in some corner, and it was only his head with a few wires exposed, but Grif felt excited that maybe- maybe not _all_ the Reds and Blues were dead.

He settled down on his knees in front of the separate helmet and whispered, "¡Lopez! ¡Estoy tan feliz de ver que no estás muerto!" _Lopez! I'm so happy to see that you're not dead!_

Grif grins hidden behind his helmet, but it slowly turns into a frown as Lopez doesn't respond back to him.

He clenches his fists on top of his knees and asks, "Estás vivo ¿verdad?" _You are alive, right?_

Still no response. And he- he can check to make sure he's still functioning. It's that easy.

And there's no reason for Lopez to _not_ be alive- he's managed just fine without his body on multiple occasions.

So Grif _knows_ that Lopez is still functioning.

So that just means that he's choosing to not talk to Grif.

"¿Por qué no me estás hablando?" _Why aren't you talking to me?_ he asks. "¿Me culpas por su muerte? ¡No es mi culpa!" _Do you blame me for their deaths? It's not my fault!_

The Lopez in front of him doesn't answer, but the Lopez in his head is just repeating _'Es tu culpa'_ over and over and over-

"¡No es mi culpa! _¡No es mi culpa!"_ he screams at the silent Lopez.

He jerks forward when he feels a hand on his shoulder grip painfully.

Locus pulls him up off the floor and away from the disembodied head, saying, "Stop talking to it- it's not alive anymore."

"No, he is," Grif insists, wilting when Locus sharply turns his helmet towards him. "He hates me, it's my fault that they died-"

"It is," Locus cuts him off. "They may have had a fighting chance had you not abandoned your post."

Grif stutters at that, and tries to get out, "I- _I_ wouldn't have made a difference- I should gotten them to _stay-"_

"You are a soldier," the grip Locus had on his shoulder got a little bit harsher, before it relaxed completely becoming softer. "While you may not think as much, the Reds and Blues used their dying breaths to get the robot to transmit a message to you before it died too."

Glancing back at Lopez, Grif looks at the wires and realizes that- that _maybe this wasn't the time where Lopez could just walk off being removed from his body._

Locus turned Grif away from Lopez as he said, "And as a soldier, you are obligated to avenge them."

Grif didn't say anything in response, and he didn't try to look back at the dead Lopez either.

* * *

Grif doesn't know how long he's been with Locus. His HUD clock is still broken and the ship doesn't have any form of time- time telling? Time telling. The ship doesn't have it.

Sometimes Locus briefly lands on planets, says he's finding leads on where the Blues and Reds are. Says that it's too dangerous for him to leave the ship which is- yeah he's probably right. Locus is right about a lot of things.

But then it's just him alone in the ship. With Lopez. And the others. But Lopez is dead, and the others never have anything nice to say.

One time Grif picked up Lopez and placed him on the console, just to see if he would start talking again. But- but he didn't. Grif thinks that he connected to the ship's interface, but he isn't sure. So Lopez is dead and alive. Probably. Dead alive, alive dead.

Still not talking to him.

Grif doesn't tell Locus that Lopez is deadlive, he's pretty sure that he wouldn't like that.

He's also pretty sure that when he goes onto the planets he comes back with a higher kill count.

But- he doesn't want to _assume_ that- he's just, pretty sure that after he gets the information he kills the person.

Grif hopes that he's not. But Locus said that- that he was reformed now, and he's usually right about a lot of things.

Just- just not about how Grif should kill this Temple person for what he did to the Reds and Blues.

Grif doesn't want to kill anyone.

But he does want to know what Locus does when he leaves the ship. He needs confirmation just- just in case _he's right._ About Locus. Killing people.

He's usually wrong so, he's probably wrong again.

It's the same thing as always- Locus sets course for a different colony or planet, they arrive, he tells Grif not to leave the ship, says that he'll handle it, goes off for hours, and comes back with one less bullet in his gun.

But this time, Grif waits a bit before going to get Lopez and put him against the console again. It doesn't seem right to leave him alivead in the corner when he can just hook up to the ship itself.

The ship must be a better conversationalist than Grif.

And then he leaves, and he's not sure what he was expecting when leaving the ship- but he's flighty and panicking because he _hasn't really left the ship or Iris but he doesn't know why he's so scared either-_

Except he's pretty sure that that's a skeleton he's looking at, and that there's no one alive in this city, and why would Locus come _here-_

He's being slammed against one of the cracked windows before he even knows what's happening. He's looking into Locus' helmet as he's pressed into the window.

"I thought you'd do this eventually," Locus muses. "I had hoped I would be wrong."

Grif doesn't say anything, only nervously swallows and widens his eyes.

"Why did you leave the ship, Grif," Locus asks patiently.

He debates not answering, but the weight of Locus forearm against his chest plate is enough to convince him otherwise.

"I wanted to see if you were telling the truth," he flicks his eyes away towards the skeleton again. "That you weren't just killing people."

Locus tsks and adjusts his position so that his hands are cradling the back of his neck and the side of his helmet.

Grif tenses up and decides that speaking _really_ isn't the best thing to do in this scenario.

"Why do you have such qualms about killing, Grif," Locus asks. "It's the only thing creates a balance in this world. Those who kill should be killed."

"Then what about you," Grif winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. Scrunching his eyes closed, he totally expects Locus to attack him or _do something-_ after what he just said.

But nothing happens but him feeling a chill against his cheeks, and when he opens his eyes he sees that not only _his_ helmet off but so is Locus'.

Locus doesn't look like what he thought he'd look like. His eyes focus hard on the scar shaped 'x' on his face, but then Locus' hand is on the side of his face where his skin grafts were and his mismatched eyes flit up to look into Locus' own grey ones.

"We're soldiers, _Captain_ Grif," Locus' thumb traces the border where the two different tones of skin meet. "We are not killers, we follow orders. And your orders were to stay on the ship."

The soft touch turned rough, as Locus essentially pinched his cheek. Grif winced and pressed back into the glass slightly, desperate to get away but not stupid enough to do anything unwise.

"You've killed before under orders," Locus continues, not letting up his hold on Grif. "The principle is the same, except this time the orders come from me and I expect you to follow them."

His hand goes back to caressing Grif's cheek as if that would make the crescent-shaped indents go away quicker.

"I understand that the Reds and Blues operated under different ideologies," Locus amends. "But they are dead, and before that, they abandoned you because they had no use for you anymore."

"That's not true," Grif mutters, blinking away the tears that threatened to appear.

"None of them cared about you," Locus disagreed. "You were only useful to them as a useless doll that didn't question orders, and when you did they realized that you were defective and left you."

His head violently cracks against the side of the window after Locus had slapped him before Locus grabs his face to turn it back towards him.

"But I'm not going to abandon you because you occasionally disobey orders," Locus looks directly at Grif. "I'm going to remind you why you should follow them, even if that means punishing you."

"I wonder if you disobeyed as much when Captain Simmons _used_ you in that storage closet back on Chorus," Locus quips, and Grif feels his heart _stop_ and he doesn't know how Locus knows about _that_ and he just feels- he feels so _fucking dirty_ hearing it phrased that way.

He- he doesn't- Simmons would have-

He's never going to know because Simmons is dead but the Simmons in his head is telling him that what Locus said was true and he just-

"You are going to kill Temple," Locus announces, leaning backward as shame flooded onto Grif's face. "Because we are soldiers and killing him is the right thing to do."

"Put on your helmet," Locus turns away, putting his own helmet on as he walks back to the ship.

Grif stays for just a second against the window, before reaching for his helmet and sliding it on as his cheek stung and bitter tears rolled down his face hidden behind his visor. He follows Locus into the ship.

When Locus sees where he left Lopez he merely picks him up and puts him back in the forgotten corner, saying, "It's dead, stopping messing around with it."

* * *

Locus had set a course back to Earth a few weeks later, and Grif _knows_ he should feel something about finally going back home. But- but he just doesn't. Earth is just another planet to him.

But apparently this is where the Blues and Reds are stationed at, and Locus had thrust a gun into his hands before they had even passed by Neptune.

"You are going to kill Temple and any other Blue or Red soldier you come across," Locus orders.

Grif doesn't say anything but looks down at the gun.

"The Reds and Blues are dead," Locus continued. "You are going to kill Temple because the Reds and Blues are dead _\- these_ are your _orders."_

He nods but doesn't say anything in response. He knows this by now. He's heard it over and over and over-

"You're going to repeat your orders back to me," Locus states with a slight growl.

"I'm going to kill Temple because the Reds and Blues are dead," Grif mumbles out.

He thinks he's in the clear, but then, "Louder. Look at me, not the gun."

Raising his eyes to meet Locus' he repeats, "I'm going to kill Temple because the Reds and Blues are dead."

"No," Locus shakes his head. "Because you are a soldier. Fix your mistake."

"I'm going to kill Temple because I'm a soldier," he doesn't point out that he was only following orders the first time. But the aching throb on his neck from the last time he was- when he was punished, keeps him from talking back to Locus.

Locus finally seems satisfied because he backs off and turns his attention to the console. "You are to stick by my side at all times, but if somehow I get separated from you, you are to stay put. I'll come find you."

As much as Grif would love to just run off and find some sort of transport away from Locus, he _knows_ that he can't. Because even if Locus scares him sometimes _\- his neck still hurts from the bite marks-_ he knows that he's _safest_ with him.

Locus has taken care of him so far, and- and he said that he wouldn't abandon him like the others.

The Reds and Blues were dead.

And Locus just showed him the truth on how they didn't care about him. He was safest with Locus.

Locus would keep him safe. Would teach him how to be a better soldier.

He's going to kill Temple because he's a soldier.

They're entering the atmosphere when Locus reminds him about the doppelgangers, about how just because they were wearing the same armor and had the same voices or personalities didn't mean the Reds and Blues were alive.

And he was to kill any Blue or Red soldier he came across.

* * *

They're halfway through the mostly empty base when Locus tells him to stay put and not go anywhere. He turns on his cloak and disappears around the corner. And as much as Grif is itching to just _run away_ he doesn't.

Because he has orders. And he's going to wait like a good soldier.

But then he hears- he hears familiar voices echoing down the hall and he _knows_ that it's not the voices in his head.

He- he should probably move- hide- _run away_ \- but he doesn't. He merely switches the safety off of his gun and with shaking hands raises it to where he hears the voices.

The Reds and Blues were dead. The Reds and Blues were dead. The Reds and Blues were-

But suddenly he's face to face with two people wearing Tucker and S- _his_ colors.

"Holy shit, Grif," the Aqua one exclaims, in surprise. But he quickly reaches for the sword on his hip- and Grif can't even trust that as evidence- _The Reds and Blues were dead_ \- the copy probably had just pried it off of Tucker's corpse. "Wait, how do we know it's you, prove it."

Grif aims his gun at Aquas head, and shakily says, "I'm going to kill you."

"Grif it is you- wait, no dude it's okay!" Aqua exclaims gesturing towards himself and Maroon. "It's just us we're not Bucky or Gene."

"I don't know who those are," Grif responds, and he can feel his hand start to shake- he had orders, he should have shot them by now. "The Reds and Blues are dead so you can stop pretending."

"Huh?" Aqua glances at Maroon before looking back at Grif. "I'm pretty sure we're all alive dude. Didn't Lopez explain anything to you? I know he managed to get a message back to Chorus requesting help, so _obviously_ , he found you."

The base was empty, but that didn't mean he could believe anything from the fakes in front of him.

"Lopez is dead. Alive. Él no me está hablando," _He's not speaking to me_ , Grif stammers. "He's dead alive- shut up," he demands.

"Grif," this time Maroon speaks up. "Put the gun down, let us explain."

He points the gun in Maroon's direction, and he knows he should pull the trigger, but he sees the helmet and he just thinks back to everything- but, but he also thinks back to what Locus said- what he said about that _night_ back on Chorus and-

A loud gunshot rings through the corridor and he sees Maroon go down and Aqua call out, "SIMMONS!"

He's rooted to the ground even though his eyes are clenched shut and he's just following orders like a good soldier- but they sound just like- but Locus said-

_The Reds and Blues are dead._

And then suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder, and Locus is there and he's pulling him out of and away from the base, hearing the remnants of, "Locus?!" echoing through the base.

But then he's face to face with Locus alone on the ship with nobody else but Lopez whose muerto y vivo, and still not talking to him.

And he keeps his head down as he hears Locus say, "You're going to be punished for disobeying orders."

He knows that he's safest with Locus but-

"The Reds and Blues are dead, those were copies- and you had orders to _kill them,"_ Locus continues.

He didn't like the punishments nearly as much, and he still feels pain in his neck.

Locus puts a comforting hand against the back of Grif's neck as he says, "These punishments are only to make sure that you'll become a good soldier, you know I would never do you any _real_ harm."

But he's safest with Locus because _the Reds and Blues are dead._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest when I say that I thought _no one_ would request the brainwashing prompt, but the anon on Tumblr single handily gave me an amazing prompt and I guess I just got too excited to write it!
> 
> My Tumblr's are: @agent-murica (main and where I'm accepting prompts) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


End file.
